


(you) in my fantasy

by historiologies



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: College AU, M/M, sex operator au, they're also in university so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-14 17:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13594479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historiologies/pseuds/historiologies
Summary: "No BDSM, no fetishes, no spanking?""No—spanking? Do you get that a lot?""More than one would normally get, I think."Kwon Soonyoung, engineering major by day, phone sex operator by night.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [calculus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calculus/gifts).



> Happy happy happy birthday, ao3 user calculus!!!!!!!! I'm starting this on your birthday, and hoping it gets finished before your next birthday. Harhar. I love you lots lots lots. You know this. But I'd like to reiterate it every once in awhile. :)

“Oh… Yes...”

On the couch of his apartment’s living room, Soonyoung sits fiddling with the charm on the string of leather wrapped around his wrist, a pretty silver horseshoe, as the walls bear witness to his copious moans. He adjusts the phone that’s pressed against the shell of his ear, idly wondering if the little loop at the tip is strong enough to withstand the abrupt tugs his fingers are subjecting it to.

“Hoshi? Hoshi-ssi, are you still there?”

“Mmm, yes, I’m still here,” Soonyoung groans into the base of his phone. He pants almost dramatically for effect. Jiyoong always liked a good breathy showing. “Oh, yes, are you close?”

“God, you sound so good, Hoshi-ssi,” Jiyoong says in a quiet little whimper. Soonyoung can hear the tiny slaps of skin hitting skin as the older man on the other end of the line touches himself, almost violently turned on. “I’m so close, honey. Darling.”

Soonyoung bites away a smile. He knows what Jiyoong is waiting for, knows that _Jiyoong knows_ that he knows. Still, it makes him want to giggle like an amused school boy every time he does it. “Daddy,” he exhales on a whine, a long, delicious one that he knows will take Jiyoong over the edge. “Daddy, please.”

“Oh, oh God, Hoshi, Hoshi, Hoshi, I’m-I’m…” There’s a scattering of quick intakes of breath that end on a drawn-out moan, and Soonyoung waits for the other to get his bearings back, peering at his personal phone to look at the time as he does. Half an hour of helping Mr. Han get his daddy kink on after a call with Heonwoo (a yuppie who got so stressed about work he needed auditory assistance to get his rocks off) and his weekly session with Mr. Kim (a lonely widower who called because he wanted to hear him blow raspberries on the phone--hey, he wasn’t judging) meant he could probably call it a night pretty soon. He stretches out on the couch, reclining peacefully like a sated kitten as he murmurs contented little sighs into the phone.

“Feeling better, daddy?”

“Y-yes. Yes Hoshi-ssi,” Jiyoong says, gratitude mingling with the shyness in his tone. “You were-you were amazing. As always.”

“Now you’re just making me blush,” Soonyoung purrs playfully, laying his work voice on heavy. The closing little pillow talk spiels usually resulted in a return customer and/or a hefty tip, both of which weren’t things Soonyoung could say no to. “I’m glad you had fun, Jiyoong-ssi.”

Jiyoong says good night quietly, and Soonyoung has barely put the phone down on the corner table when the door next to him opens and his roommate appears in its frame, staring at him with dead eyes.

Soonyoung looks up at him, flashes him a big wide grin. “How was your nap, Jihoonie?”

Jihoon stares at him for a few second more before heaving an almighty sigh and dragging his feet to the refrigerator behind the kitchen counter.

“Why am I always home for daddykink guy?” Soonyoung hears Jihoon muttering loudly, and he coughs into his fist, trying to disguise the small smile that’s crept onto his face. “I try my _best_ to avoid him most of all but no matter what I do, I’m always stuck behind the door of my room whenever daddykink guy calls.”

“To be fair,” Soonyoung argues soberly. “I do my best to warn you when I hear it’s him on the phone, but you were already in your room this time.” He shrugs almost apologetically, making room for Jihoon on the couch when he trudges over to sit next to him, bowl of cereal in hand.

“I mean, here I am, doing my best to finish my paper for lit class,” Jihoon rambles, ignoring Soonyoung’s voice of clearly suspect reason. “And you’re off helping some guy with a fetish get off by calling him your father.”

“First of all, I’d be more insulted had I ever known my father,” Soonyoung says, raising a finger every time he makes a point. “Second of all, don’t kinkshame people, I’ve seen your porn search history, Mr. I-Like-Big-Butts-And-I-Cannot-Lie—” Jihoon flicks a Fruit Loop at him, ears tinged red.

“Lastly, you know why." 

Jihoon's eyes soften a little but he still sighs. "Fine, fine, but please head into your own room when daddykink guy calls next time."

Soonyoung tilts his head, considering. “That sounds fair.”

“It’s the least you can do,” Jihoon mutters, scooping up some milk onto his spoon. 

"Are you this bothered because you yourself have a daddy kink?" Soonyoung flutters his eyelashes at him.

Jihoon stands up, taking his bowl of cereal with him. “I’m leaving.”

"It's perfectly normal to have _needs_ Jihoon."

"Say one more word and I'm stealing all the hot water for this evening's shower," Jihoon deadpans before shutting the door. 

Soonyoung chuckles heartily, before glancing at his work phone and seeing a message from his main operator.

Maybe there was time for just one more client.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more background on Soonyoung and why he is where he is.

Not to be a nerd, but there was very little that Soonyoung appreciated more than the first day of a new semester, especially when it was in the fall.

He wraps his new coat around him, chocolate brown and cut in a trendy fashionable style (bought with the little extra he’s making on the side, of course--his mother never asked), before hoisting his trusty satchel over one shoulder and exiting his apartment. Jihoon had already left, an early morning philosophy class that he registered late for the culprit.

The jovial spirit follows him down, through his whole walk down the street up to the nearest bus stop. Maybe it was the crisp September air, the slight chill that signalled the turning over of the leaves, the subtle adaptation of warmer, thicker clothing. Soonyoung breathed in, a smile blooming on his face as he exhaled happily. Nothing like fall to raise his spirits.

He climbs the bus when it arrives, shooting a smile at the driver before sinking into a seat somewhere in the middle of the bus. He looks out the window, toying idly with the phone in his pocket. Truth be told, his enthusiasm feels a little excessive at this point, but there are times in a person’s life when he stops and assesses what he has. Soonyoung is currently at one such point in time, and it doesn’t take him long to deem it satisfactory. Just one of those days.

After all, Soonyoung is on a full academic university scholarship at one of the most well-respected universities in the country, taking up a degree that both fascinates and challenges him on multiple levels, plus he’s able to afford all of his books and materials without inconveniencing his mother, the light of his life. So what if he had to moonlight as a phone sex operator to afford all of his project and scholastic requirements? Education was terribly expensive and not something he took for granted--he wanted desperately to do well, which meant he needed all the course materials his syllabi dictated he procure.

A friend from high school, who more or less came from the same kind of background, had gone to university somewhere in Seoul too, and when Soonyoung transferred to HYU in his sophomore year, that same friend recommended he join the phone sex operator program he was also a part of.

Soonyoung was taken aback, at first. He wasn’t a pervert or a sex worker, even though he’d read enough related literature to believe that it was a respectable life choice for certain people--just not him. His friend urged him to try it just once, and if the fun time he spent casually flirting with strange men over the phone didn’t convince him that this was worth pursuing, his paycheck at the end of the night surely did.

He could have been toiling away at a minimart or a gas station with barely enough time to read all his coursework; instead, he gets to stay and work from home, saving all that precious commute time to get extra study time in. Plus, he gets to afford his books, his coffee addiction and his nice cramped unfortunately non-soundproof apartment that he shares with Jihoon just off campus.

Soonyoung gets off the bus, tossing a casual wave at the bus driver as he ambles off into the crowd. It’s almost 11, and almost time for his first class of the semester: advanced calculus.

He reaches the building and his classroom early, as was his habit since transferring into the college two years ago. ‘I _really_ am a nerd,’ Soonyoung thinks to himself, making a face. He shrugs, however; the earlier he is to the first day of class, the sooner he can get to his usual spot by the window.

When he reaches the room, twelve minutes to spare, he sees that only one other person is in the room. Immediately, his eyes dart towards the fourth row and he does a little fist pump when he sees his favorite chair empty. Skipping in and around the chairs between the door and his destination, he sinks into his well-deserved spot triumphantly. He shrugs out of his coat, turning around to hang it over the back of his chair.

When he turns back around, someone tall and lean is slouching against the wall, seated in the same column as him but in the first row. 

Soonyoung looks thoughtfully at him, tilting his head.

Nice profile. Sharp nose pushing up a pair of round gold-rimmed glasses, black hair a little too long over the ears, but swept over his forehead nicely, soft lips pursed casually in a moue that bordered on adorable. Glasses Boy was cute. Seriously cute. And just Soonyoung’s type.

He’s playing with a pen, flipping it over and through his fingers, which are long and thin. In a fleeting moment of vulnerability (and insanity, clearly), Soonyoung wonders how it would feel to have them nudge at his hips, trace the ridges of his shoulders, flutter down the slope of his…

Soonyoung coughs abruptly before his mind ventures any further. 

Glasses Boy jolts at the sound. Slightly mortified, Soonyoung holds a hand up in apology and tries to give him his most sheepish smile. Glasses Boy gives him a tentative smile back, and Soonyoung would have risen to go up to him and talk to him if the bell didn’t suddenly start ringing and more people entered the classroom. Some people in his major waved hello, forcing him to wave back and engage in small talk. By the time he turns back to Glasses Boy, he’s already facing forward, waiting for the class to start.

God, he needs to get laid if the thought of talking to a cute classmate gets him all worked up. Soonyoung sighs and watches Glasses Boy take his book out and open it as soon as the professor walks in. Technically, he’s supposed to be “getting some”, but no dictionary would ever consider his strung out fake moans three times a week the corresponding definition of a date.

Soonyoung watches Glasses Boy nod thoughtfully as the professor introduced himself and the subject he’ll be teaching them this semester. He tilts his head and wonders lightly about what kind of voice Glasses Boy has, if it's pleasant-sounding, if it's high-pitched and sweet or as deep and as rich as a canyon.

Soonyoung doesn't even realize attendance is being called until the professor calls Glasses Boy’s name and he raises his hand without speaking. 

Soonyoung struggles to remember what his name was. It sounded something like Jung? Jeon. Right, Jeon. Jeon Wonwoo. That sounds about right. Soonyoung turns his name over and over in his head, and realizes he likes the sound of it.

He snaps to attention when he sees that Glasses Boy--Wonwoo--is turned around in his seat, a tiny half smile on his face as he observes Soonyoung's distraction. It turns out Glasses Boy is right next to him in roll call, because his professor repeats his name twice and is about to do it for a third time. 

Soonyoung turns red and says, "here." 

The class chuckles in unison, including Wonwoo. Wonwoo shrugs at him and tilts his head playfully, as if to say ‘keep up, buddy’, and it makes Soonyoung roll his eyes at himself. Nothing like looking like an airhead in an advanced calculus class to bring in the irony hard. 

Soonyoung sighs as attendance continues; eventually, his eyes wander to the back of Wonwoo’s head. _Ah well. Looking at someone pretty will at least make advanced calculus tolerable._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soonyoung gets an interesting phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we really start to earn the story's explicit rating. There will be orgasms ahead. Don't say you weren't warned.

Soonyoung is in the middle of painting his nails for the evening (a shade of sparkly black from OPI) when his phone rings.

His mouth quirks, a little perturbed at the disturbance because it causes him to drag the second layer of his left pinky slightly askew. Nonetheless, he answers the phone smoothly, cheerfully greeting the person on the other line with a sweet _”hello?”_

It’s Mr. Park, it turns out. Another regular. He coos saucily at him, because he knows Mr. Park is big on the attention and the lavish praise he gets for pumping his dick so well. Soonyoung bites back a giggle when he hears him erupt on a long, drawn-out moan that had to be exaggerated--there’s no way he was coming for that long. Soonyoung is good, but not that good.

He’s barely put the phone down when it rings again.

“Ah, really?” Soonyoung complains lightly, pouting at his right hand, which had yet to see another coating of black sparkles. “Busy, busy, busy night tonight. My men are lonely,” he simpers to himself, Jihoon out for the evening and fortunately missing the bulk of Soonyoung’s activities. “Hoshi will take care of you,” he tells the phone in a sing-song manner. He’d recently set his sights on a new Macbook instead of just any new laptop, and all these calls were simply coins in the coffer for him.

“Hello,” he answers chirpily. “This is Hoshi!”

Hoshi is his stage name; in his line of business, alter-egos were important, especially since many of their clients were prone to being attached and clingy. Hoshi’s profile picture (22 years old, photographer, into any and all sorts of kinks) was someone who wouldn’t look out of place in an idol group, but was also incredibly buff. 

Did they make them that buff in kpop groups? Honestly, Soonyoung has no idea. 

"Um, hi," says the voice on the other line. Soonyoung’s ears quirk a little at the sound of it. It's deep, tentative and really kind of sexy. Soonyoung settles in, warming a little in anticipation. 

"Hi sexy," he teases. "You've got a really nice voice." 

"Thanks. I, uh, I got this number from a friend who said I needed to relax a little and--I guess you can tell this is my first time."

"Always a first time for everything, hot stuff," Soonyoung replies zippily. He tucks his bottle of nail polish away, deciding to fully focus his attention on Sexy Voice, and wanders into his own bedroom, closing the door behind him quietly. He finds himself endeared by how shy he seems. 

Then again, he is calling a phone sex line. 

"Can you give me a name to work with?"

"Do I have to tell you my real one?"

"Whatever name makes you feel comfortable."

"Uhhh, let's go with Jino."

"Okay Jino. Tell me what you like. Tell me how you like it." Soonyoung doesn’t go into the heavy-handed husky voice yet; the longer he can sit here and draw it out, the better. He gets paid based on time, not based on number of orgasms.

"Oh, we're going there right away?" Jino sounds surprised, shocked a little.

Soonyoung giggles. He’s really too cute. "What did you think we would be doing?" 

"Um, I guess getting to know each other a little."

"You're paying by the minute, sweetie," Soonyoung reminds him, but he's tickled pink by this Jino boy. He might be the cutest person who has ever been a phone sex client, at least, in Soonyoung’s book. 

"That's a good point." A short airy chuckle reaches Soonyoung from the other line, and he smiles. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he picked up the phone.

"You want to start with what you're wearing?"

"I'm, oh, okay. I’m just, on my couch wearing jeans, and a sweater. I just got in." 

"Mmmhmmm, working man, that's good. You sound snug and relaxed. Anything else?"

"Um, I'm wearing glasses."

Soonyoung immediately thinks of Glasses Boy from class earlier, and something in his stomach twists. He briefly wonders how it would feel to talk Glasses Boy into an orgasm. No, he had a name. Jeon Wonwoo.

“Oh. I like glasses. Glasses are sexy.” Soonyoung lays his head back against his pillow, neck nestling nicely against the curve of the cushion, sighing as he lets the stirrings of heat roll over him. He stretches on his bed, the low lighting lending to the seductive atmosphere the turn in the conversation led towards.

He reaches down to trace a tentative finger over the seam of his jeans. He’s never tried to get off during one of his calls, preferring to keep his sexual activities separate from his work, but well, like he told Jino, there's a first time for everything right? 

"I think I’d like to get into your nice warm lap and hold your face. I bet it's a good face. Good bones,” he exhales, almost giddily. He’s palming himself now, breathing getting ragged at the image of Glasses Boy--Wonwoo--between his thighs. “Take off your glasses for me, hon." 

Jino’s response is muffled but Soonyoung can hear something clink against the receiver; he muffles a giggle. "Alright there? All ready? Okay. Tell me what turns you on."

"I, uh, I actually don't know. My friend says I have a lot of pent-up repressed sexual energy and I just, I need to figure out what I like." 

"Your friend sounds a bit nosy. Hmmm, okay. What kind of porn do you watch?"

"Um, nothing out of the ordinary." Soonyoung hears it, though; he’s starting to breathe slower. Trust a man to get in the mood at the mention of porn. “Can I? Is it okay if I?”

“Oh sweetheart, I’d be insulted if you haven’t started yet,” Soonyoung says, walking the precipice between haughty and coquettish. This part, he loves; the control, the playfulness, the seduction. “Go on. Touch yourself.”

Jino tries to hide the tiny groan that escapes him, but Soonyoung shushes him. “No need to hide, I’m not here to judge you. It’s okay, sweetie.” He doesn’t like to think of his callers beyond what they give him, but there’s a tiny part of his heart that twinges at the thought of shy, tentative Jino having to hide everything--likely including calling a gay phone sex hotline--away. 

"Anything you like in particular? No BDSM, no fetishes, no spanking?"

"No--spanking? Do you get that a lot?" He sounds amused, and it charms Soonyoung more than he’d like to admit. 

"More than one would normally get, I think." 

Soonyoung is tickled; he very rarely gets the ones who just want to talk first. In the time since he’s started doing this, he’d managed to acquire a regular bunch of clients by now, and they more or less occupied the same kind of profile: lonely older men whose buttons he already knows how to press. Sometimes he gets some callers already in the middle of getting aroused and it takes only a quiet little moan from him to get them coming and then hanging up the phone. 

People like Jino were very rare callers: a blank slate. 

"I just watch the usual things... like, two guys, blow jobs, fingering, fucking."

The mental images filtered neatly into Soonyoung’s active imagination; he switches his phone to the other ear so that he can unbutton his jeans and shimmy his hips out of them. His cock, already half-hard, springs free, and he turns away from the door and pulls his sweater over it just in case anyone barges into his room, fingers encircling himself under the cover of the fabric. "Do you like to give or to get?" he asks him, kicking his pants off his bed, his voice lowering in pitch on account of his own ministrations.

The hitch in his throat tells Soonyoung that he's finally found some footing. "Um, both." 

"How about you start me off tonight?"

"Huck-I mean, how?" 

Soonyoung smiles, a nice haze of arousal settling over himself as he imagines enough for the both of them. "Just close your eyes and listen to me." 

"Okay." 

"If I were with you, I bet you'd wrap your long arms around me. I bet you'd feel so good, so nice, so sturdy underneath me. I'd kiss you now; God, I bet you're a fantastic kisser." In Soonyoung's brain, he imagines it's Wonwoo opening his mouth underneath his, and he lets out a tiny groan, hips undulating to piston into his fist. 

(He's glad he decided to take this call in his room--the years of aggravation he would suffer from Jihoon would not be worth it.)

"Mmmm, God. I want to put your sweet cock in my mouth, suck your dick down whole until you’re gasping for it." Soonyoung goes for the jugular, the dirty talk filthy but direct to the point.

He hits his mark. "Oh god, fuck, I… shit, I… You sound so good," Jino’s deep voice, strained and breathy and so fucking earnest, makes Soonyoung bite his lip to keep a whimper in. He exhales, heat flushing around his neck. 

"Touch yourself for me, baby. Are you doing that?" 

"Y-yes." 

"Good. That's a good boy. I bet you're beautiful right now. I bet you look so good, spread out on your couch, sweats off, touching yourself. Imagine I'm right there with you." He hears the sound of skin slapping skin over the line, not unfamiliar, but it's the first time that Soonyoung is actually affected by it. 

He can’t help it--the image of Wonwoo tugging at himself, whining into his couch pillows, brings Soonyoung high, and he can't help the sounds he's making into the phone as he fucks into his fist. "Yeah, do you like that? You sound so good, Jino, so damn good."

"I want, I-I want..."

"Tell me what you want, love."

"You, fuck, I want you. Hoshi… Oh fuck, oh god… Hoshi… " His name is repeated over and over, like a chant, Jino’s voice escalating into staccato little whines that betray how deeply turned on he is. 

He's close, and so is Soonyoung. 

"Come on, baby. Come for me, Jino," Soonyoung commands in a raspy tone, and on the other side of the line, he hears Jino gasp out loud, short breaths into his ear, before a moan rips out of his throat. Soonyoung shoves the collar of his shirt into his mouth and groans as a real orgasm shudders through him, come splattering across his stomach. 

He blinks, dazedly, staring down at the streaks lining the inside of his sweater, before he winces at the discomfort. 

Best not to do the washing with Jihoon’s stuff, then. 

Soonyoung exhales shakily and leans back against his pillow, marveling over how a shy caller gets him to come on the phone for the first time ever. 

They're both breathing heavily for awhile, before Soonyoung giggles, exhausted and amused. 

"You're going to be fun, Jino. I can tell."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short interlude.

When the door bursts open, Soonyoung almost yelps in surprise.

Jihoon quirks an eyebrow at him as he nudges the door closed with his hip. Tossing his bag onto the floor, he approaches Soonyoung on the couch, eyes narrowing as he gets closer. Soonyoung resists the urge to gulp; what has he got to be guilty over? _Absolutely nothing_. That’s his stand and he’s sticking to it.

“You told Seokmin and Seungkwan you were too sick to meet them for drinks.”

“I am!” Soonyoung replies hastily. “I mean, I was.” He slouches, drawing his covers tighter around him. “I felt awful awhile ago.”

“You look fine to me.”

“Why thank you, Jihoon, you flatterer of men,” Soonyoung responds pleasantly, smiling and wiggling his eyebrows at his roommate. 

Jihoon doesn’t seem as amused. He points accusingly at Soonyoung. “Don’t change the subject.” He sits on the couch next to him; Soonyoung tries not to squirm.

“Aside from classes, you have been staying in here for, like, a week and a half.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Soonyoung splutters, defensively. Since when did Jihoon take such careful notice of his weekly whereabouts? Just because he’d been home more often than not lately, there was no cause for concern--this is definitely what he will be telling Jihoon.

Jihoon crosses his arms gingerly, the look in his eye suspicious. It makes Soonyoung want to hide, maybe.

“Have you been working this whole time? Are you becoming sex-addicted?”

“Jihoon!”

“I mean, it’s your life, man, but you also have to interact with real people.”

Soonyoung’s not sure he’s ever been this embarrassed in his life; he doesn’t quite remember anything that approximates it. “My clients are real people, plus they’re making sure I’ll be getting that sweet new Macbook Pro by the end of the semester.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes and snorts, standing up and making his way back to the front of the apartment to pick up his discarded bag. “Whatever. Just, I dunno, stay hydrated or something.” He shrugs it onto his shoulder, makes his way to his room.

Soonyoung purses his lips, calling out after Jihoon, already through the door. “Awwww, Jihoon, you care.”

“You pay for half of the rent and groceries,” Jihoon calls out from inside his bedroom.

“I can see right through you.”

Jihoon appears again, carrying his wallet and phone. “I’m going out.”

“You’re my good friend too, Jihoon!”

“Goodbye,” Jihoon deadpans, opening and shutting the door behind him.

When Jihoon leaves, Soonyoung smiles to himself, amused, before he picks up his phone to check the time.

Just in time.

A few minutes pass in silence, Soonyoung inclined to spend it scrolling through his social media timelines, before his work phone rings. He lets it ring twice before picking up. Doesn’t want to look too eager.

(He’s such an idiot. It’s a good thing Jihoon had already left. He would have asked him to smack him up the head for being so ridiculous. Jihoon would have gladly taken him up on it.)

Soonyoung picks up before the third ring finishes. “Hello,” he says, in his work voice.

“Hi,” says a voice on the other end, a little breathless, like he’d just come in out from the cold.

Hearing it makes Soonyoung smile. He scooches into his side of the sofa, makes himself comfortable.

“Jino, hey,” he says in his regular voice. He’s stopped bothering to talk to him in his Hoshi voice because their conversations often lasted an hour and some change and he could not sound overwrought and needy for longer than twenty minutes tops.

“Been waiting?”

“For you? Not really,” Soonyoung says dryly. He smiles to himself. “Just sitting here, fielding calls, watching my nails dry.”

“Oh really?” is the amused reply. Soonyoung snuggles closer into the arm of his couch. “Sounds thrilling. What color?”

“What?”

“Your nails. What color?”

“Oh,” Soonyoung says. Caught him there. He glances at his fingernails, the surfaces still beautifully intact because of his touch-up last night. “Black but sparkly. Like my personality.”

“Ah, that’s not true,” Jino says. A slow smirk spreads across Soonyoung’s face when the other’s tone turns bashful, almost shy. Jino’s too cute for words. “You’re more… pink.”

“Gay phone sex operator, pink? That’s a stretch,” Soonyoung deadpans.

“That’s not what I mean,” Jino replies with a chuckle; Soonyoung can almost visualize the accompanying rolling of eyes. “You’re bright and fun.”

“Hence, my dear Jino,” Soonyoung says, amused. “The sparkles.”

Jino laughs, and Soonyoung joins him. There’s a warmth curling underneath his breast that has nothing to do with arousal, and it’s been a familiar companion the past week since he’d met Jino’s acquaintance. Jihoon would tease him mercilessly about it if he knew, so Soonyoung’s trying to keep it under wraps until he figures out exactly why he’s been re-arranging his schedule to fit around Jino’s phone calls.

“Fair enough,” Jino acquiesces.

“So what kind of day are we having today?”

“I, uh, just wanted to talk, maybe. Long day,” Jino says, on a sigh. “Not really in the mood.”

 

There’s something about the way he sounds that tugs at Soonyoung, makes him want to ease Jino into his lap and stroke his hair until he fell asleep.

(Wow, Soonyoung thinks. He’s definitely taking some time to unpack that later.)

“You’re going to spend all this money just talking to me tonight?” _I can just give you my phone number for that,_ Soonyoung thinks about quipping, but he restrains himself. To be able to maintain a healthy mindset towards this job, Soonyoung was taught a very strict body of ethics, which definitely included not revealing anything personal to a client. He’d never been tempted to even come close to disclosing any of that to any of his callers, until now.

(More unpacking.)

“Why not? You’re great to talk to. Besides, isn’t that what we’ve been doing the past week?”

“No, some nights, I do a lot of talking and _you_ jack off.”

“Oh, and you haven’t?”

Okay, so he has. He’s not going to admit to it. “So what if I have?” _Dammit, Soonyoung,_ he thinks to himself. He’s going about it all wrong. “Nothing wrong with that.”

He sighs internally, before uncurling from the sofa to pad softly into his bedroom. Jino’s moved on from their playful banter to complain about a class he was going to. Soonyoung had established by now that they were more or less about the same age, but wealthy trusting parents and two decades of playing by the rules gave Jino a credit card that he could use for scholastic matters or other things.

He supposes he doesn’t mind being considered as “other things”, in this case.

“How about you?”

“Me? What about me?”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“What do you _want_ me to talk about?” Soonyoung’s in bed by now, tucking his feet into the warmth left behind by the hot pack he’d left at the foot of his covers.

“I don’t know. Anything. I just want to hear you talk about things.”

Soonyoung bites his lip. The worst part of Jino’s flirting is that he doesn’t even realize that that’s what he’s doing. “Why don’t you continue telling me about the evil lit paper your professor sprung on you last minute?”

Jino scoffs into the receiver. “You want to hear more about schoolwork? Because that’s basically all I know right now. I’m not a very interesting person.”

“Oh I highly disagree, I think our talks the past week have shown that you are far from boring.”

Soonyoung likes it when he flusters Jino, and he smiles at the way he’s stuttering now.

“Relax, darling, I’m just teasing.”

Jino relaxes and laughs into Soonyoung’s ear, and Soonyoung thinks he’s fonder of this one boy he’s never met than of at least 94% of the people he’s ever met. That is quite the statistic.

The phonecall ends about ten minutes later. No orgasms were had, but Soonyoung is still thinking about the way his stomach flip-flops at the sound of Jino’s laugh as he shuts his eyes for a short nap before he goes back to studying.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chat with an old friend, and a new one.

“Peppermint latte?”

Soonyoung looks up, raising a hand. “Mine. Thanks.”

“And the chocolate milkshake with extra whipped cream?”

“That would be mine,” says the person on the other side of the table, opposite from Soonyoung; he smiles at the girl carrying his drink to the table, casually brushing his hair out of his face and tilting his head as he thanks her softly. The waitress flutters her lashes at him, and Soonyoung waits until she regretfully has to return to the counter before snorting derisively.

“You really had to give that poor girl a mini heart attack with your soft gentleman shtick.”

“Life is all about giving people a nice fantasy to go over when they’re feeling sad or lonely,” the other boy tells him breezily. He chuckles to himself, before taking a sip of his milkshake. “It’s excellent, by the way. In case you were wondering.”

“Not really,” Soonyoung retorts, but he smiles afterwards. He’s known Junhui too long for the other to be offended by his grouchy little comments. Separated by only five days, he’d been one of Junhui’s first friends when the latter had just moved to Korea from Shenzhen. Soonyoung had beamed when he found out how close their birthdays were, and Junhui had latched onto him instantly, keen for new friends and kindred spirits.

They weren’t the best of friends, but they were very important to each other. They were both Geminis, dancers and liked boys, although strictly Soonyoung swung both ways while Junhui was more firmly entrenched in ‘gay, exclusively’ territory. They’d grown up raised only by their mothers, and would rather cut their own legs off than be a burden to them any more than was necessary. When Junhui had moved to Seoul after graduation, he’d privately confessed to Soonyoung that he was worried about the high cost of living at the capital, and swore to him that he’d find a part-time job if it killed him. Several months later, Junhui had smugly told him about his employment, and also told him that if he was interested, he could put in a good word for him if he was pushing through with his plans for transferring to HYU for university.

The rest was, well, money in the bank.

“Your loss,” Junhui shrugs good-naturedly, smiling brightly at Soonyoung. He stretches indulgently, body moving further into his chair as his legs hit Soonyoung’s under the table. “I am exhausted.”

“I thought you said quitting would be better for you, not worse.”

Junhui sighs exaggeratedly. “The restaurant’s passing onto me eventually, I might as well start learning the ropes as early as now.” He straightens now, long and lean and golden, his bangs falling over his eyes in gentle waves. “It’s doing much better since I started looking over the books though. So many unnecessary expenses here and there, but I managed to straighten it all up. And here I thought I wouldn’t learn anything from work aside from the best way to wring orgasms from lonely old men.”

“I’m sure Younghyuk-hyung would be happy to know that his meticulously typed up income statements were appreciated by people outside of himself,” Soonyoung comments wryly, making a reference to their company’s (former company, in Junhui’s case, as he’d resigned a few months earlier to help his mother with managing the small restaurant she had acquired when a small inheritance--and some of Junhui’s earnings--fell into her lap) accountant.

“It’s true though.” Junhui’s eyes brighten in fondness, remembering the sweetly flamboyant young man who was in charge of disbursing their commissions twice a month. “Speaking of Younghyuk-hyung, how’s work?”

Upon hearing the question, Soonyoung suddenly replays scenes from last night in his head. He’d holed up in the room while Jihoon was studying in the living room, ignoring the suspicious little look Jihoon had shot him while he carefully nudged his bedroom door closed. When he was sure his whispering wouldn’t cause Jihoon to burst into the room with a vuvuzela, insisting that he quiet down and spare him the therapy, he’d proceeded to talk quietly to Jino, who had opened the call telling Hoshi about how he had started on a new book and ended up discovering he had a low-key praise kink when he’d barely lasted a few seconds after Hoshi moaned into the phone about what a good boy he was.

Soonyoung pauses, before giving Junhui a shrug that he hopes looks casual enough.

“It’s alright.”

“Alright, huh? No interesting new clients?” Junhui took a sip of his milkshake, finger dipping into the whipped cream and lifting it into his mouth to taste. Soonyoung is too used to him to find it cute, his mouth curling into faux distaste at his hygiene.

“Well,” Soonyoung hesitates, but the interest in Junhui’s eyes pushes him to continue. “There is this new one.”

“Oh! I’m all ears,” Junhui presses, and it’s his excitement that has Soonyoung letting his guard down a little.

“Well, in a nutshell…” He starts it off like this, and goes on a solid monologue about meeting Jino, how often he called, what they talked about, his impressions of him, including the fact that they had both started watching the same Netflix series and in fact later when Jino calls him at his usual time they would be discussing their thoughts on their continued mischaracterization of the lead female actress honestly it’s such a mess—

It’s when he realizes Junhui has his chin perched in his hand and when he looks down and sees the ice in his peppermint latte practically melted that he realizes that he’s just rambled about Jino for a good fifteen minutes already.

Soonyoung snaps his mouth shut, slightly mortified. “I can’t believe you just let me go on and on like that, holy shit. You fucker.”

Junhui is still staring at him, expression a little wondering, surprised, even. “Soonyoung,” he tells him, marvelously. “You like this guy.”

He reddens, the tips of his ears feeling like tiny little flames. “What on earth are you talking about? Fuck off, don’t be ridiculous!”

“You’re fucking _blushing_ ,” Junhui says, awe-stricken. He leans back against his chair now, looking absolutely gobsmacked.

“We don’t even know each other,” Soonyoung splutters, hands suddenly restless. He curls them around the cup of coffee on the table instead. “And I still, like, talk him to orgasm and shit. That’s not crushing on someone.”

Junhui points a gleefully accusatory finger at him. “You’re both watching the same drama and curling up in bed talking about it instead of him just objectifying you every time he calls.”

Soonyoung’s jaw drops open, but he doesn’t trust himself to reply just yet.

“I mean, you spend more time talking than voice fucking—”

“—Oh my God, _please_ stop calling it that—”

“Well, really, that’s what it is—”

“Also you were the one who told me that half of these calls were lonely guys who just wanted to talk to someone,” Soonyoung interrupts again, glaring at Junhui.

“Yeah, they like talking _to_ someone,” Junhui says, raising a clarificatory finger. “I don’t think this is what’s happening here. You are talking _with_ him.”

Soonyoung snorts. “There is no difference.”

“There _is_ a difference,” Junhui insists. His eyes are wide open and he’s leaning forward, concerned. “You are _sharing_ stuff with him, giving him a part of you.”

“You are making it sound like I’m giving him syphilis!” Soonyoung blusters. At this point, he and Junhui are hissing at each other like alley cats, and the friendly waitress from earlier gives them a wary look and a wide berth.

Junhui leans back against his chair, sipping through his straw thoughtfully. “You should think about it, but be careful,” he says after some time. He sips again, and a sound rattles through the straw, signalling that his drink was empty. He makes a sad face at the remnants of the milkshake before placing it back on the table and standing up to go.

“I have to go. I have class soon. Remember what I said about the rules.” Junhui winks, picks up his keys and leaves with a carefree wave of his hand.

Soonyoung remains seated, pouting after Junhui’s form long after he’s left the shop they’d met at for coffee.

For god’s sake. He does _not_ like Jino.

—-

He’s home alone after meeting Junhui, because Jihoon’s home for the weekend. His only class today was cancelled, but he’s scheduled to work later on after dinner.

He’s still thinking about what Junhui said when his phone rings as soon as his hours open up. Only then does he realize with a jolt that he hadn’t seen the newest episode of the drama show he and Jino’d agreed to watch together, but that’s because he thought he’d have time—Jino usually called at around 9 pm and it was barely past six.

“What an eager beaver,” he mutters under his breath. He’s not really in the mood yet to cater to anyone but a job is a job; he sighs and picks up the phone.

“Hello, this is Hoshi!” he calls out melodically, trying to egg himself on. If there were callers already at 6pm, then he’d be having a long night ahead of him.

“Hi Hoshi,” murmured a familiar deep voice. Instantly, something in Soonyoung’s stomach clutched, and he warmed, reclining until he was lying down on the couch, ready to curl into the phone as if it could bring him physically closer to the boy on the other line.

“Jino. I didn’t think I’d hear from you so soon,” Soonyoung says, wondering. He’s usually really good at telling Soonyoung to expect the timing of his calls.

“Actually, I’m really glad I caught you before you got tied up with anyone else,” Jino says, breathlessly. He sounds like he’s just run up a flight of stairs. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check.”

 _A rain check_. Soonyoung violently squishes the disappointment that balls up in his chest, desperately keeping the realization that he’d been looking forward to their talk all day at bay, lest Junhui’s triumphant face suddenly loom over from somewhere. “That’s, that’s okay! It’s no big deal. I’ll talk to you whenever, then.”

Jino pauses a little before replying, his voice several notches deeper than it was previously. “Will you miss me a bit?”

 _Maybe a little, you sexy fuck,_ is what goes through Soonyoung’s mind, and it’s true. He’ll miss hearing Jino groan and tell him how good he sounds to him, but more than that, he’ll miss hearing him complain about an overbearing professor, a sucky assignment, an annoying sibling, a terrible movie. He’d begun to look forward to the times of the day when they would trade little back and forths between them, always determined to make the other laugh or cringe.

Junhui was right. Soonyoung was fucked.

Still, outwardly, he pretends to scoff. “Not as much as you’ll miss me.”

Jino laughs at this, and the sound of it makes his heart stutter in his chest a bit. “Family came over all of a sudden, and we’re going out for dinner. Can I call you tomorrow instead?”

“I don’t know…” Soonyoung says coyly, intent on drawing the conversation out for as long as he could. The thought of having to field calls from his regulars without Jino to look forward to at the end of it all made him very slightly sad.

“You’re going to make me beg, honey?”

Soonyoung should never have let this guy know how much pet names turn him on.

He’s about to reply with a sexy little whimper when he hears a loud bang, like a door opening, and someone in the background call out something unintelligible.

Jino lets out a little annoyed puff. “My brother’s here, being an obnoxious butt.” He covers the mouthpiece of the phone, but Soonyoung still manages to hear him clearly. “Bohyuk, get out of my room, I’ll be right there.”

“Mom, _hyung_ said—”

“Jeon Bohyuk, I’m not deaf, I heard your brother. Wonwoo-yah, get yourself downstairs in two minutes or else we are leaving without you.”

Soonyoung drops the phone.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck what the fuck?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soonyoung finds out who Jino is, and feels so much regret.

Soonyoung carries dread around his shoulders the whole weekend. Jihoon looks at him strangely and tells him he’s been acting weird the past few days, but it barely filters through to Soonyoung, who sits around practically catatonic until school rolls around again and he’s boarding the bus to campus and approaching the building with dread instead of anticipation.

He creeps into his Calculus 2 class, only briefly relieved that Wonwoo’s not in yet. He sinks into his chair, sagging from the mental strain of the stress.

His sense of victory is dashed against the rocks almost immediately as Wonwoo comes in right after him and gives him a small smile before striding over to his seat. As they’re the only two people in class so far, the sound of a zipper echoes around the room as Wonwoo drops his bag onto the floor and opens it up to pull a notebook and a couple of texts out. 

It’s only when Wonwoo’s eyes flick nervously towards him and meet his gaze that Soonyoung realizes he’s _staring_.

Soonyoung coughs, forcing himself to avert his eyes and stare down at the wood of his desk and out the window instead, urging the blood rushing up to his cheeks to subside.

To put it simply, Soonyoung does not know what to do.

It’s weird, knowing what he knows. It feels like his brain has been split into two, trying to maintain separate and distinct realities: in one reality, he’s voice-fucking (damn that Junhui) with a faceless person he’s growing hopelessly attached to, and in another reality, he stares dreamily at the back of the head of a cute boy with glasses in his calculus class. They are two worlds that don’t interact, that shouldn’t interact. And yet here he is now, faced with the conundrum that those two realities are one and that the boy who has become the highlight of his week is someone who has actually been underneath his nose all along.

It’s enough to discombobulate even the steadiest of resolves.

He hasn’t told anyone yet, not Jihoon, not Junhui, and definitely not Jino—Wonwoo.

God, he knows how the cute boy with glasses sounds like when he comes. He will never ever look him in the eye ever again.

“Mr. Kwon?”

Soonyoung jerks at the sound of his name. “Present!” he calls out, raising his hand, nanoseconds just before he realizes that rollcall had been done fifteen minutes earlier. Everyone is looking at him, holding back their snickers, and his professor simply smiles wryly at him.

“Is the view outside so captivating, Mr. Kwon, that you’ve been tuning me out for the past ten minutes?”

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” Soonyoung says meekly, putting on his most pitiful and sheepish expression. As he’s been churning out As and B+s in all his recent quizzes and theorem papers, the professor simply shakes his head and continues.

“For the benefit of Mr. Kwon and everyone still distracted by the turning of the leaves even though it’s been happening every October for as long as we know it, I’ll be putting you all into pairs. The idea is for you all to prove the theories listed on the board.” He gestures towards the board, where Soonyoung can see a number of complicated English names listed. “Since it’ll require quite a bit of time, I’ll give you and your partner about a month to do it. This will satisfy this class’ midterm requirements.”

“As you should be preparing for this paper, we will not be holding class until after midterms. Instead, I will be available at my office for consultation, should there be a need for it. I expect you all to turn in your papers during the Friday of the last week of October.”

Soonyoung furrows his brow and purses his mouth, his other woes falling by the wayside as his perfectionist nature when it comes to his academics rears its head. He’s counting on at least a B+ in this subject to maintain his scholarship, so he’ll need to turn in an excellent paper. He hopes he doesn’t get saddled with a partner who expected him to do all the work just because he was a scholarship boy—he’ll do it, but he won’t be happy about it. Lowkey, he hopes they’d get to choose partners, and he’d be able to get to work with Jinwoo, the other scholarship kid in the class. That way, he wouldn’t be worried about someone putting in less effort than the other.

“So that it’s fair, I’ve already assigned partners and theorems to prove for everyone. I’ll be attaching the list on the blackboard, then leaving.” 

_Well that ruins my plans,_ Soonyoung thinks to himself, pouting. _Please let it be someone decent at least._

“You can take the rest of the class today to talk to each other and make plans for your paper.” His professor picks up his briefcase and gives them all a smile before sticking a single piece of paper on the side of the board that’s meant for university announcements with a thumbtack. “That will be all.”

He leaves the classroom, and a few students eagerly walk up to the front of the classroom. Soonyoung watches them—he pretty much knows most of the people in the class, so he’s pretty sure someone will turn around and come up to him to tell them they’re partners. He sees Jinwoo pair up with Sooyoung and Yanan sling an arm around Changgu and the ends of his mouth turn downward. Who else is he going to be left with?

It dawns on Soonyoung just then that it was likely that he was a terrible warlord or a national traitor or a criminal lawyer in his past life, because at the exact moment that he realizes that people are pairing off alphabetically, Jeon Wonwoo turns around and looks at him.

Jeon. Kwon.

_Fuck._

“Kwon Soonyoung, right?”

It takes everything inside Soonyoung not to weep because he never expected to hear that voice in person, much less saying his name — his real one, not his alias — in a curious, adorable tone.

He’s really, really, _really_ cute.

“Yes. That’s me,” Soonyoung says, speaking in a voice that he prays is as far away from his work voice as possible. It results in him speaking in a kind of nasal tone that makes Wonwoo raise his eyebrow. “Sorry, allergies.”

“That’s okay. I’m, uh, Jeon Wonwoo. Your classmate and I guess your partner until midterms.” He smiles and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the tip of his finger, and Soonyoung remembers the one time they talked about how much Jino wanted to finger him and he inhales sharply. “I think you’re doing much better than me in this class but I assure you, I’ll be putting in my one hundred percent in too.” He bows his head, and Soonyoung is distressed at how good-looking he looks when his bangs fall across his eyes in waves. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Soonyoung gives him a wan smile in return. “Nice. Yes. I guess so.”

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, I am so fucked._

—-

Soonyoung scowls down at the textbook on the table in front of him, frustrated that he hasn’t gotten beyond two pages in the past hour and half that he’s been there. In the chair opposite him, Wonwoo is making steadier progress than him, highlighting and making notes diligently while he simmered in his distracted little funk.

They’d decided to meet in the library the Wednesday following their last class, and Soonyoung had nodded curtly before hightailing it out of the classroom. Needless to say, he’s been a mess since then. He’s refused to go back to work since last Friday either, and it’s taking everything in his power for Jihoon not to notice how weird he’s being. He forces himself to keep it together and it’s only his calls to his mother that calm his nerve and force him to remember to put in more effort for class, since midterms were coming up in a month.

But trying to read in Wonwoo’s immediate presence? More difficult than anticipated. Everything about him reminds Soonyoung about the variety of their conversations, both the g-rated and the explicit, and it’s really taking all of his brain power to refuse all the paths his mind wants to take.

“Hey Soonyoung, it’s getting a little crowded here, don’t you think?” Wonwoo’s voice suddenly interrupts his failed reading attempts. Soonyoung looks up and Wonwoo is looking at him, shy smile on his face. He tries not to melt.

“Um, I guess.” He’s really committing to this fake voice charade.

Wonwoo closes the textbook, picks it up along with his notebook and backpack. He uses his head to gesture towards the back of the library. “Come on, I know a place that’s more quiet with less people.” He shrugs sheepishly. “I need all the help I can get when it comes to Calc 2, so it’s better that I read in a place where there’s less distraction.”

 _What if you’re the distraction?_ “Sounds good,” Soonyoung says curtly. He stands up, textbook gathered to his chest. “Lead the way.”

“Cool,” Wonwoo says, and Soonyoung makes a small little face when he turns around and walks away. Maybe Soonyoung wants to cry a little because he never expected to miss Jino this much, which was a lot. It’s weirdly ironic in a way, about how much closer he is now but he couldn’t be more distant from him if he tried, just because Soonyoung can’t even look at him without thinking of how many orgasms they’ve brought each other to.

Which was… a lot.

He really can’t look at him.

“Um…” Soonyoung suddenly realizes they’re walking up the stairs to the back of the second floor of the library. “Wonwoo?”

He suddenly recalls a call he and Jino had a few weeks ago where he described in spectacular detail the way he would pull Hoshi into the dark, isolated part of his university library devoted to literary first editions that no one could borrow but were put on display anyway, push him against the stacks of books that were never getting shelved, and go down on him until his knees gave out and he could no longer stand.

“It’s quieter there, less people. I’d give you the best head you’ve ever had, twenty feet away from the nearest person, and they wouldn’t have a clue. Do you like that?”

He did. He’d come right then at the thought. He always had a little exhibitionist streak in him, and Jino knew this. Fucking Jino.

Soonyoung whimpers to himself. _Fuck, he was talking about our library. He was talking about this section. He was thinking about these stacks._

He looks up and sees the shelves with the rows and rows of shiny first editions, the messy stacks of books, the dimmed lighting. And despite all his efforts to stop himself, despite all the cold showers he’s imagining and all the unsexy pictures he’s frantically projecting into his brain at the moment, Soonyoung stops, bends over. 

He’s popped a boner.

_I want to die._

“Soonyoung? Are you okay?” Wonwoo is at the top of the stairs now, looking down at him, concern in his eyes. Soonyoung wants to cry. This is a nightmare.

“I’m, um, fine.” He maneuvers the books in his arms over his groin area, cursing when they hit his dick. They’re so heavy like this. “I just, remembered I had something to do. Somewhere to be. So sorry.”

“Oh. Right now?” Wonwoo checks his watch, a perplexed little moue on his face. Soonyoung wants to drag him into the shelves himself and kiss it right off his face. “Isn’t it class time?”

“I know. It’s an emergency. So sorry. I’ll, um, I’ll see you again soon. Here! Friday! Same time. I’ll do my readings and you can just KakaoTalk me.”

“But I don’t have your—”

Soonyoung’s already bounding down the stairs in record speed. “Bye!”

He sees the librarian give him a look for all the noise he’s making, but he’s too busy making a beeline out of the library to his dorm for some emergency private time and trying to ignore the image of Wonwoo’s look of confusion and slight hurt to care about her admonitions. 

It doesn't mean that he's successful, though.

 _This,_ Soonyoung thinks desperately to himself, _sucks._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update!! Congratulations, you all get one. I'm actually really motivated to finish this one since it's been more than a year since I started this but.... oh well. I can't really tell you when the next update will be but hopefully it will be soon! This, ESOTSM AU and ABO fic will probably be my priorities for now. 
> 
> Let me know how you feel on twt or cc, I'm @/historiologies on it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude, and the beginning (?) of a friendship.

A week later, and things still suck.

Things are so much worse for Soonyoung now that he’s conscious and aware that Wonwoo’s face is behind the voice. He’s avoided work for four days now, and his employer is concerned. He’s starting to think he’s looking for other employment options, and has taken to leaving behind antsy little hint-filled texts like the number of their in-house psychiatrist and the human resources help hotline, just in case he’s feeling distressed about something that happened at work.

They’re a very employee-focused phone sex operator, Junhui had said at the beginning of his work tenure, and Soonyoung can’t help but agree.

He’s assured them he just needs a little break, but that does little to actually assuage them.

Still, his employment situation is not as bad as what’s happening with his academic one. This partner project thing is just terrible because he’s always working closely with Wonwoo and knowing that he is gorgeous and handsome and smells so good and also is the sexiest moaner his ears have ever heard when he comes is just making it very hard for him to concentrate.

They’re at the library again for the third time the following week. Soonyoung’s trying his best to read through the text Wonwoo’d picked out for the both of them, but his eyes keep flicking towards Wonwoo. Wonwoo, who’s making casually flicking through the pages of a nerdy math textbook look incredibly attractive. Wonwoo, whose said that one of his biggest fantasies is to be given a lapdance. Wonwoo, who has just pushed up the sleeves of his thick cozy-looking sweater up to his elbows and adjusted his glasses, and it takes everything inside Soonyoung not to whimper.

_Focus, Soonyoung. You need to get a good grade on this stupid project. You cannot get side-tracked by a cute boy who makes you come harder than you remember ever coming in your life._

He shakes his head and goes back to his book, glaring furiously at the several lines of text attempting to explain Cauchy’s condition for uniform convergence and willing his dick to behave.

“Hey Soonyoung?”

Soonyoung doesn’t realize until Wonwoo’s third whisper that he’s being addressed. “Huh?”

His eyes almost glaze over when he sees Wonwoo stretching in his seat, leaning back to much he’s practically tipping the chair over. Painfully, his eyes rake over the thin sliver of skin that the action’s revealed and—fuck, were those abs?!

“I don’t know about you,” Wonwoo says, chuckling. “But my brain’s absolutely spent right now.” He stands up, ruffles his hair a little, and Soonyoung bites his lower lip. Why does he have to be this annoyingly adorable? “I think I’m going to go for a walk.” He gives Soonyoung a smile. “Would you like to join me?”

Looking at Wonwoo in his thick navy blue sweater, all rumpled and soft, made Soonyoung think of things like walking under the fall foliage, holding hands and kissing softly underneath the autumn leaves. _Dangerous things to think about,_ he’s deduced.

“Um,” Soonyoung says, hesitant. “Maybe not.” His throat tickles. How he’s managed to keep up this vocal charade of masking his voice up nearly an entire octave without anyone (read: Wonwoo) looking at him funny, he will never know. “There’s, um, still so much to read.”

He’s alarmed when Wonwoo’s eyes turn sad and unsure all of a sudden. He sinks back down onto his seat, placing his elbows on the table and perching his chin in the cradle of his two palms. “Hey Soonyoung… have I ever done anything to offend you or anything?” He shifts, uncomfortable, and Soonyoung’s heart twists just a little. “Do you… not like me or something.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen and he feels terrible for making him think that. “No, Wonwoo, no, that’s not it at all.”

Wonwoo gives him a weak smile, shakes his head. “Yeah, I know, I just. I wanted to make sure.” He chuckles softly. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been really worried lately that there’s something about me that’s… I dunno, pushing people away or something. Maybe something I said that I didn’t… realize?”

He looks worriedly at Soonyoung, and it hits him all of a sudden that he might be talking about Hoshi. _Oh fuck._ Soonyoung’s heart can’t help but sink. Wonwoo looks so sad, so helpless. It’s so weird how everything inside him wants to reach out and touch him.

It’s also weird because he feels like he knew Jino so well but meeting him—meeting _Wonwoo_ —makes him realize that there were still so many things he didn’t know. Before this project, he didn’t know that Wonwoo had a habit of nipping at his lips, pulling his sleeves over his hands, blinking owlishly at his notes whenever he was staring at them too long. He didn’t know that Wonwoo crinkled his nose when he laughed, that he would talk with his hands, that he swung around in his chair whenever he was trying to think. 

Many times since this whole thing with Jino--Wonwoo took a turn for the strange, Soonyoung’s often stopped to think about just how much he misses Wonwoo, which is the weirdest fucking thing because they work right next to each other three out of the five days in the week, but he does. He misses talking to him, flirting with him, making him giggle and hearing him sigh.

Soonyoung truly hates himself—only _he_ would get himself into this fucked-up mess.

“I’m sorry,” he tells Wonwoo. “I guess, I don’t talk much.” Outright lie, especially for anyone who knew him, but that wasn’t Wonwoo. Not really. He thinks. Fuck.

Wonwoo smiles at him, and it makes Soonyoung want to melt a little. “It’s okay. I used to be much quieter too.” He leans forward, eager to share something about himself. “Lately… lately I met someone who taught me how to be more open, I guess? More honest.” 

“Oh.” Soonyoung’s heart absolutely does a little twirl in his chest, and he’s trying desperately not to blush. “That’s-that’s nice.”

“Yeah. I don’t want to bug you with all this,” Wonwoo says, his voice soft and kind of sheepish. “I guess I should take that walk now.” 

Soonyoung hesitates, before he swallows and stands up. “Hey, Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo stops, before looking back in surprise. He smiles at him, though, and Soonyoung feels its warmth seep into every crevice of his being. _Keep your cool, Kwon. It’s just you being a nice person. Nothing more._ He clears his throat, starts talking a little more normally, but not yet entirely his own voice. “Maybe I’d like to take a walk too.”

“Great,” Wonwoo says, his eyes lighting up. He steps aside, presumably making space for Soonyoung to fall in step next to him, and Soonyoung does just that, scratching his head, maintaining a healthy amount of space between them.

But if their fingers brush together accidentally, well, Soonyoung chalks it up to physics. Gravity, and all that jazz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a bridging chapter -- most of the action will be in the next chapter.
> 
> Brace yourselves, because so much will happen :) coming up soon!
> 
> I'm @/historiologies on twt/cc.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Developments aplenty, both good and bad.

_Dammit, Kwon. What the hell are you doing here?_

Soonyoung shifts restlessly, trying not to look too awkward in a maroon sweater and tight dark jeans while the voice in his head second guesses him all the way up the driveway. He’s been invited to a party by Wonwoo, and despite the many ways he’s told himself what a terrible idea it was, he still finds himself in front of a house in Cheongdam pulsing with music and overflowing with people he assumes are his schoolmates. He’d wanted to back out at least five times before today, but Wonwoo’d sent him a message a few hours ago, saying how he was looking forward to seeing him later.

There were quite a number of happy-looking emojis accompanying that text, that Soonyoung steadfastly, desperately tries to ignore.

(He’s failing.)

Soonyoung breathes a deep sigh before pushing through the doors.

He hopes he doesn’t regret it.

Once inside, he’s immediately plunged into darkness, the deprivation of his sense only intermittently alleviated by the flashes of technicolor and light that manage to punch through. He blinks rapidly, trying to adjust to how dark everything is, the thrum of the bass beats vibrating through the walls disorienting him. He jumps a little in surprise when someone bumps into him and nearly knocks him on his ass, but if someone had apologized, it goes over his head fast, drowned out in the waves of sound.

He does his best to navigate through the hallway, arms outstretched and trying to feel for the walls. The black lightens into a dim gray in the distance, and he finds himself in a crowded back room with semi-decent lighting. The tiled floors make him think ‘kitchen’, and he latches onto what looks like the refreshments table with gratitude and not a little fear. He sees people standing around, talking, in various degrees of inebriation, and cans of beer and bottles of soju littered just about everywhere.

Soonyoung suddenly remembers why he doesn’t really do ‘parties’.

“Soonyoung! Whoa! What a surprise!” Someone claps him on the back and Soonyoung nearly jumps out of his skin, he’s so tense. He relaxes a smidgen when he sees it’s Seungcheol, Jihoon’s friend from high school who sometimes crashed at their place when he was too tired to drive home.

“Cheol-hyung! Oh thank goodness. I’m so glad to see someone I know here,” Soonyoung says, gripping Seungcheol’s arm a little too tightly.

“What are you doing here? This isn’t usually your scene.” Seungcheol’s tone is playful. “Got a hot date?”

“No, no, I was just invited,” Soonyoung replies hastily, holding his hand up.

Seungcheol tilts his head at him, curiosity briefly clearing his gaze. “Anyone I know?”

“Um.” He hesitates. He doesn’t even know _why_ he hesitates. “Jeon Wonwoo?”

“Ah.” Seungcheol takes another swig of his beer, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Jeon. He’s out back.” He gives Soonyoung a measured look, before he smirks. “Ah, that makes you…”

“Makes me what?” Soonyoung replies warily, giving Seungcheol a scowl.

Seungcheol laughs. “Never mind. Come on, I’ll take you to where he is.” He turns around, gestures for Soonyoung to follow him. “Careful with the can. Nayoung only has one rule here: no beer stains on the wooden furniture.”

Soonyoung straightens his shoulders and falls behind after him as the other goes back out a door different from the one Soonyoung had entered into. Honestly, he doesn’t know why exactly he’s here — aside from the fact that he and Wonwoo had taken to spending time together, even beyond the allotted class hours, just to study together. He’s not exactly sure why it’s taking them this much time to figure out how to present the proofing of their assigned theory but it likely has to do with so much of their time just —

He bites back a sigh. Honestly, he and Wonwoo catch each other’s eyes a lot while they’re studying, and sometimes it results in them buying food or coffee, sometimes it ends up with the two of them going on one of their quiet, comfortable walks and sometimes, sometimes it just ends up with the two of them engaging in a silent contest of who looks away first. Honestly, his throat is starting to hurt, the way he has to maintain that stupid high-pitched voice every time they talk — and they’ve been talking a _lot._

Still, the annoyance is secondary to getting to know Wonwoo in general, who could be the strangest guy sometimes, but had a weird sense of wit about him, a kind heart and whenever he looked at Soonyoung, his heart did this odd little somersault in his chest. Soonyoung’s no idiot — he knows that they’re engaging in some kind of mutual flirtation thing, and while Soonyoung ordinarily would relish having a cute _real_ boy in his life, he’s holding back a lot because of the whole thing hanging over their exchanges — the thing being _the phone sex operator thing_ and Wonwoo being his frequent and favorite customer.

It’s a stupid thing, falling for a client, and a little voice in his head that sounds like Junhui on a particularly insufferable day keeps reminding him that it’s the one thing he shouldn’t be doing, and yet. 

And yet.

Such is Kwon Soonyoung’s life, to be stuck with the cutest secret lonely pervert in the city.

It’s dimmer than it was in the kitchen, but no way is it as dark as the entryway he’d used to come in. When his eyes adjust to the light, he sees he’s in some kind of living room that has marginally less people than the dance floor — mostly people sprawled around couches and bean bags, talking with their heads bent together, trying to get heard over the loud vibrations of the music.

“He’s over there,” Seungcheol says directly into his ear; Soonyoung looks to his left, the direction Seungcheol nudged him towards, and harrumphs, not appreciating the little stutter his heart makes when his gaze lands on Wonwoo, who is looking much more fashionable in a denim jacket and dark jeans than his usual sweater-paws. He also looks much more tipsy.

He watches Wonwoo’s eyes light up and his heart twists, just a little. “Soonyoung, you’re here!”

He barely has enough time to place the can of beer in his hand on a nearby ledge (wincing internally and sending up a quiet apology to the host) before Wonwoo lurches towards him and trips within two steps of him. With a gasp, Soonyoung catches him, flushing as he realizes that he has an armful of boy and that Wonwoo’s whole lean self is pressing up against him. He’s taller, too, and Soonyoung has the wherewithal to maneuver himself so that when he loses balance, the two of them end up with their limbs tangled together on a nearly empty couch.

“Hi,” Wonwoo tells him softly, and Soonyoung can tell he’s got no idea that they both nearly brained themselves upon greeting. Still, Soonyoung can’t help the quiet little sigh that escapes him when Wonwoo gives him the blissful smile of the drunk.

“Hi, yourself,” he replies gently. 

Soonyoung pulls out of Wonwoo’s arms and nudges him until they’re both sitting on the couch, limbs to themselves. He breathes out, making a strangled little noise when Wonwoo leans his whole head on his shoulder. “You’re so nice, Soonyoung.”

“Um,” Soonyoung stammers; he looks around but no one is paying them any attention, the lights growing dimmer as the music pounds louder overhead. He catches the eye of an underclassman in one of his orgs, Chan, who waves at him and then gives him wiggly eyebrows when he sees he has a boy leaning into him.

He glares back at him, and Chan throws his head back in laughter before coming over, beer in hand, to sit on Wonwoo’s other side. “Hey hyung. You look busy.”

“Shut up, Chan,” Soonyoung growls, but reverts back to his higher-pitched voice when Wonwoo looks at him oddly. “Wonwoo, this is Chan, Chan, this is Wonwoo.”

“Is he your…?”

“Study partner,” Soonyoung says through gritted teeth.

Chan smirks at him. “Sure, hyung. And I’m Lady Gaga.”

“You only wish you had her fashion sense,” Soonyoung retorts.

“My world is spinning,” Wonwoo says in a small, slurry voice, and Soonyoung’s attention immediately zeroes in on him again. “Soonyoungie?”

“Do you need to barf?” Soonyoung asks, worried, but lets out a little yelp when Wonwoo presses closer against him. He looks down at Wonwoo, and he flushes when he sees Wonwoo looking back at him, the clouds in his eyes clearing up and the focus of his gaze on Soonyoung before it drags slowly down his face, to his lips. And stays there.

 _Fuck, I can’t deal with this guy,_ Soonyoung whines to himself internally.

“You’re so nice, Soonyoung,” Wonwoo tells him in the deliberate tones of the inebriated. “You smell so nice and you have the cutest smile.”

Soonyoung blushes. “Oh man, Wonwoo, you are so drunk.” Still, he can’t help but watch Wonwoo smile, slowly and surely, eyelashes dark against the pale of his skin.

He hears someone clear his throat, and he startles; when his eyes clear up, Chan is leaning over towards them, concerned. “Hyung, why are you talking weird?”

“Hmm? Weird?” Soonyoung feels panic tighten his throat when Wonwoo looks at him, eyes blinking and peering closely at his mouth. “But that’s how you usually—”

“Wonwoo, don’t you want to dance?” Soonyoung interrupts him. He gives Chan a solid glare before pulling himself off the couch and tugging on Wonwoo’s arm to follow suit. “I suddenly really feel like dancing.”

“But I don’t—” Wonwoo looks adorably confused but doesn’t pull away from Soonyoung’s grip when he’s led to the dark room next door. Soonyoung pushes through the throng of people until he finds a space near the middle of the room that isn’t as raucous and crowded. “Soonyoung? Are you—”

“I’m right here, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung calls out over the music; he catches Wonwoo’s hands in his, and squeezes, trying to reassure him. He starts to move their hands up and down to the beat, trying to get Wonwoo to shake his hips and move around, and even in the dark of the room, he sees Wonwoo’s fond gaze fixed on his face, and the butterflies in Soonyoung’s stomach make him feel breathless.

They dance and spin and move around, make exaggerated and silly faces at each other whenever the music shifts to something more upbeat, never really leaving each other’s orbit. People they don’t know keep handing them shots of soju and tequila and they knock them back down, daring and exhilarated, Soonyoung thrilling to the fact that Wonwoo keeps touching him, whether it’s a casual hand around his shoulder, a palm laying flat against the small of his back, a casual rub of his jaw with his thumb. He felt protected and cherished and an errant thought of ‘is this what it’s like to date Wonwoo’ pops up in his head.

It surprises him when it does. It surprises him even more to realize that maybe, just maybe, he wants to.

_Maybe I can take the plunge and just help Wonwoo forget about Hoshi, make him realize that a real relationship is better than any kind of auditory fantasy..._

“Soonyoung!” Wonwoo calls out, shaking him out of his reverie. “Dance with me!” And Soonyoung does, shaking his head and spinning around in Wonwoo’s arms, leaning his head back against his shoulder.

He bites back a little moan when Wonwoo ducks his head to hum against his skin, his fingers tracing up and down his side underneath his sweater. “You’re a real gentleman, huh?” he says out loud, shuddering when Wonwoo takes his hand and presses both their palms against his stomach.

Maybe it was all the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that Wonwoo’s fingers felt so nice intertwined with his, maybe it was because the song had segued into something with a slow grinding beat and Wonwoo had stepped closer and pulled him flush against him, but Soonyoung was feeling loose and touchy and fuck if he wasn’t horny — after all, with all the stress going on with his job and with Wonwoo, he’d barely had time to jack off because the anxiety was getting to him. Here and now, though, with the alcohol running through his system and a delicious boy holding him, looking like he wanted him, Soonyoung wants nothing more than to be ravaged into next week, complications and complexes be damned.

Soonyoung shivers, arousal stirring him when Wonwoo whispers directly into his ear. “Only for some people.” God, Soonyoung missed that voice. He can’t even remember the many times he’d gotten off just from the low rumble of that voice into his ear, telling him to keep on touching himself, imagining that it’s him touching him, caressing him, lowering his head to… 

“Myself included?”

Soonyoung’s breath stoppers in his throat when Wonwoo presses soft lips to his jaw, a spot just underneath his ear. “Yourself, especially.”

There’s at least thirty other people in the room and the music is still causing the floor to rumble under his feet, but all Soonyoung can focus on Wonwoo’s startlingly deep breaths in his ear, the feeling of his arms surrounding him, the smell of him. _God, he smells so good, all clean and masculine and aftershave-y,_ Soonyoung thinks to himself; everything inside him wants to melt, wants to shove Wonwoo down onto the nearest surface, climb into his lap and just take, take everything he’s been fantasizing about since he walked into class that morning.

Wonwoo sighs, lets out a stuttered, breathy little moan into his ear when Soonyoung tugs his other arm to circle around his waist, and Soonyoung is gone. 

He wants this boy. He _wants_ this boy.

“I know where we can go. I know where we can stay,” Wonwoo tells him, and Soonyoung is lost to him, drowning in a heady cocktail of want and tipsiness; he doesn’t even think, doesn’t even stop, just holds onto him and lets himself be pulled out of the crowd, out of the dark. There’s a turn, two turns, a flight of stairs, and nearly a broken vase, but finally Wonwoo is pulling him into a room that’s empty and dark and has a bed.

Wonwoo turns to him, eyes dark, and Soonyoung, he locks the door behind him. He lifts his chin up, challenging.

“Soonyoung—”

“Fuck me ‘til I can’t feel my legs, Glasses Boy.”

Wonwoo doesn’t hesitate, and neither does he. They reach for each other, clutching, stumbling, and Soonyoung is breathing heavy; he lets out a small gasp when he’s pushed onto a mattress, bites his lip when Wonwoo follows after him, nudging his legs apart to make space for himself. He inhales, the weight of Wonwoo pressing him down making his insides curl with want, and he reaches out for Wonwoo just as the other finally, finally lowers his head to kiss him.

As tipsy as he is, Soonyoung still feels everything coursing through him as soon as Wonwoo presses his lips to his — it feels like the culmination of so much inside him that he thinks his world tilts and rights itself up again in one tumultuous motion. He lets out a surprised little sound, his heart beating wildly from the deluge of sensations wrecking his being, and Wonwoo takes it as his cue to take him under.

For all his bravado as a male phone sex operator, Soonyoung has not actually had a lot of experience in this department; he’s not a virgin, but he’s not dated or kissed as many boys as his alter-ego would make others believe. Kissing Wonwoo makes his gut tighten, the slide of his mouth electrifying, the curl of his tongue against his inflammatory — it would be terrifying if it wasn’t such a thrill. His fingers are itching to touch him, to find purchase somewhere — they bunch in his collar, seeking an anchor in all this upheaval.

Wonwoo’s hands are everywhere, pulling him closer, stroking his face, gripping his hips and leaving trails of fire in their wake. Soonyoung can barely think beyond just keeping it together but when Wonwoo starts pushing his hands under his body to palm at his ass, he begins to wonder why there’s too many layers of clothes between them. He shakes his head, and Wonwoo’s mouth drops down to nibble at his collarbone, exposed by his treacherously loose sweater neckline.

“Ah, Wonwoo, oh fuck, right there—wait...”

“If you’re going to ask me if I have condoms, they’re in my back pocket.”

Soonyoung screws his eyes shut at the imagery, lets out a high-pitched whine. “When you put it that way…” His line of thought gets interrupted when Wonwoo grabs him by the waist and aligns their hips, a series of guttural little groans erupting out of him when Wonwoo grinds against him, each one louder than the last. “Oh jeez, Wonwoo—”

“Just want you, just want you,” Wonwoo mutters into his skin, and Soonyoung’s fingers itch to just push Wonwoo’s shirt up so that he can trace the hardness of Wonwoo’s stomach with his tongue. Feelings surge out of him, of how he and Wonwoo came together, of how the memory of the sound of Wonwoo’s hitched staggered breaths invades his brain every time he tries to get off, of how Wonwoo has been wanting him, him, him the whole time. How could he have ever gotten involved with someone this sexy, and how could he like him back — every part of him?

That he knows of, anyway.

Shaking his head to derail that train of thought, Soonyoung tugs the jacket off of Wonwoo; the other shrugs it off quickly so that he can hold the back of Soonyoung’s head and continue to lick up and down his throat and Soonyoung is shaking, he’s never ever wanted to have someone inside him so badly. 

“Wonwoo Wonwoo Wonwoo, like this, like this—” 

He grips Wonwoo by the hips and rolls over, pushing the other down onto the bed. Soonyoung shushes him, swallowing Wonwoo’s confused little noises himself, pressing him down with a kiss while his fingers reach down to try to unclasp his jeans. He breathes through his nose, the anticipation making his head spin. The hard line of Wonwoo’s cock is pressing into his palm and he tugs Wonwoo’s jeans down along with his boxers so it springs free.

“Soonyoung, what are you — oh shit, fuck.”

Soonyoung bends over and takes Wonwoo’s cock into his mouth, his tongue licking fat stripes up from the base to the tip. He notes Wonwoo’s broken little groans smugly, and he digs deep, trying to remember everything he’d stored into his brain about the things he likes. Even in his inebriated state, he remembers how Wonwoo likes it, just the way he’d told Hoshi. 

“Soonyoung, Soonyoung, oh fuck, I’m going to—”

“Come on, Jino, just let go, come for me.”

Soonyoung doesn’t realize what’s happening, what’s leaving his mouth until he’s abruptly pulled up into Wonwoo’s lap. “What-what did you say?” 

He blinks, watching the tipsiness and arousal in Wonwoo’s eyes recede when he cups Soonyoung’s face, searching for something. “Soonyoung, what did you call me?” 

_No…_

“N-nothing. I didn’t call you anything.” Soonyoung gulps, nervously, bringing a hand up to brush his bangs away from his face but Wonwoo catches his wrist, brings it up to his eyes. 

“Black sparkly nail polish…” Comprehension dawns onto Wonwoo’s face, and it makes Soonyoung’s blood curdle. “No. No, it can’t be. But the nails…” He pushes Soonyoung off his lap, his eyes wide and sober.

“Wonwoo…”

“It’s… it’s you, isn’t it? And-and you knew it was me? This whole time?”

The little hitch in his voice breaks Soonyoung’s heart. “Wonwoo, please, I can explain.”

Wonwoo pushes off the bed, away from Soonyoung, taking one of the pillows and putting it over his lap. “Oh my God, that voice. It’s you. Fuck, I can’t—I can’t believe I didn’t hear it sooner.”

Tears well up in Soonyoung’s eyes, and his vision is misty when he sees Wonwoo hurriedly pull his pants up and run desperate hands through his hair.

“I have to go.” The deep red of humiliation creeps up Wonwoo’s neck like a trellis, and he turns away from Soonyoung and the bed, exits the room without even looking back, leaving Soonyoung with his jacket and all of their shared shame.

_Oh God. What have I done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-dun-duuuuuun. All of the drama. All of it.
> 
> Next time: the aftermath.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates to this will come as often as possible, which is... probably not as often as I would like. Welp.
> 
> The title is the original title of the song "Miracle" by fromis_9.


End file.
